The scene seemed to represent the earth in its principles, while still in training. Jets of steam issuing from the fissures of the rocks. The footprints left by some reptiles were clearly drawn in the mud. Top flying in the air, gigantic beasts fought and tore each other. Among the rocks of a beach, the tentacles of a monstrous animal uncoiled menacingly serpentine and red light of day, as a creature drawn from some fantasy fiction.
Then, gently, the scene changed. The rocks were replaced by a wind-swept desert, and, like a mirage, there was the hidden and deserted City of Pillars, also known as Irem. Phillips knew that now, when no human foot trod and streets of this city, some terrible ones still lurking in the stone pillars of the houses, that were not in ruins, but remained in the state in which they were when the ancient inhabitants were killed or driven from the city by those bodies come from the sky to besiege Irem and seize it. Of these creatures could not see anything, only be guessed marauding the anguished movement, like a shadow out of time. And far behind the city and desert, stood the mountains whose tops were covered with snow when I was contemplating the still, Phillips learned their names do, because at that moment revealed to his mind. The desert city was Ciudad Sin Nombre, and the snowy peaks were the Mountains of Madness, or maybe Kadath in the Desert Cold. A Phillips amused give their names to these parts of the landscape, it occurred to him easily, he came to mind as if they had been around the perimeter of his thoughts, waiting for the opportunity that allowed them to incarnate in a realistic experience.
He sat for a long time, fascinated, until a slight feeling of alarm you removed. The landscapes that passed before his eyes were similar to those that might appear in a dream, and yet, Phillips felt growing concern. I sensed something of the presence of evil, while taking consciousness of certain unmistakable signs of the horrible beings who occupied these places. Finally, he could not resist any longer bound to that anguish, turned off the light and, somewhat shakily, lighting a candle. Immediately felt comforted by its brightness faded and family.
long time meditating on all that he had seen. His grandfather had told him of the lamp that was his "most valuable possession", with which it was evident that its properties were known. And what were these properties but the power to transmit the ancient and magical memories of a revelation, so that those who sit in its light could see the places of terror and beauty of their respective owners had known? Phillips was convinced that the landscapes that he could see were familiar places to Alhazred. But this explanation had little logic. And the more laps he was more increased his perplexity. Decided to return to work had turned away, turned on him and got away from it all the fantasies and alarms began to settle in his mind.
The next day, Phillips went to the October light downward to walk out of town. Took the car line to the end of the residential area, and then walked toward the field. Came to a place she did not know y que distaba por lo menos una milla de cualquier lugar por donde hubiera paseado antes. Siguió una carretera hasta la bifurcación al noroeste de Plainfield Pike y subió por la falda oeste del Nentaconhaunt. Allí pudo disfrutar de una vista realmente idílica. Era un panorama de praderas, de viejas paredes de piedra, de blancas alamedas y de lejanos tejados al oeste y al sur. Phillips se encontraba a menos de tres millas del corazón de la ciudad y sin embargo, estaba como sumergido en la primaria Nueva Inglaterra rural de los primeros colonizadores.
Antes de la puesta del sol, subió hasta arriba de la colina en dirección a uno de sus escondrijos familiares, que siempre le había attracted. Never before had noticed at the prospect that had the extensive field. Everything was shining streams, forests and distant mystical orange sky, the great red sun disk between strips sinking layers of clouds. He went into the forest and beheld the same sunset through the trees. Then turned east to cross the hill toward one of their hideouts family and had always attracted. Never before had noticed the vast expanse of Nentaconhaunt. More than just a hill, was a true plateau in miniature, with valleys, ridges, and their own tops. Since some of its hidden meadows -So far from any sign of human life, the view was offered on the Sky remote town marveled: it was a happy dream of peaks and domes half floating in the
air surrounded by a dark aura of mystery. The upper windows of some of the tallest towers preserved the glow that the sun was lost and offered a vision of surreal glow. Then, Phillips was able to admire the great disk of the moon Orion floating around the steeples and minarets, while to the west, the bright orange horizon, Venus and Jupiter began to flash. He went into the plain. The road crossed varied landscapes: sometimes snaked through the interior, and other penetrations in the woods and crossed to reach out to the valley of darkness that slid into the plain below. The large boulders that were swaying in the rocky heights produced a spectral effect, Druid, the cut in the twilight.
finally came to a few places that you were more familiar. There, covered with grass, the promontory of an old buried aqueduct gave the illusion of stepping on the remains of a Roman road, and there was the top of the hill known ever heard. Extended to his feet, the city was lit up quickly and looked like a constellation lying in the deep dark. The moon poured a flood of pale gold, and west, the glow of Venus and Jupiter was increasing in intensity on the horizon more and more diffuse. The path that led him to his house stood before him, he was only down the last slope to reach the car line that would lead to the prosaic places frequented by humans.
But during all this time peaceful, Phillips had not forgotten a single moment of your experience last night and could not deny who eagerly anticipated the arrival of the night. The sense of alarm which had seized him had become the promise of a new nightlife experience of unknown nature.
That night, he took his solitary dinner faster than usual to go immediately to the studio, where the rows of books that reached the ceiling, waiting for him with permanent greeting. But he did not even look at the work he had left on the table, but Alhazred lit the lamp and sat down to wait for what might happen.
The soft yellow glow of the lamp is spread over the walls lined with shelves. The flame did not move, burning quietly and steadily, and like yesterday, the first impression was that Phillips received a warm comforting and lulling. Then, gently, books and shelves seemed to fade, fade, and gave way to scenes from another world and another time. Although we were completely unknown, the names of the scenes and places he saw surfaced naturally to mind, as if the glow lamp Alhazred stimulate their imagination. He saw a beautiful house, crowned with smoke, on a promontory as the nearby Gloucester. He saw an old Dutch-style village with a dark river that ran through a town like Salem, but more evil and mysterious, and called the people Arkham, and the river Miskatonic. He saw the dark coastal town of Innsmouth, and behind it the Devil Reef. He saw the watery depths of Cthulhu R'lyeh where the deceased lay sleeping. He stared at the Plateau of Leng, ravaged by wind, and the dark islands of the South Seas. Could see the Dream Land, the landscapes of other places, space and life forms that had existed in other times and that, older than the earth itself, dating back to the primordial, to Hali, and beyond .
But these scenes as witnessed through a window that seemed to invite you to leave their own world to travel to these realm of wonder and beauty, and temptation Phillips was getting louder, shaking with the desire to obey, to stop being what it was trying to be so maybe it could be. But as the night before, turned off the light and thanked the appearance of the walls filled with books in the study of his grandfather Whipple. He resigned from the monotonous revisions awaiting him, and spent the rest of the night, the candlelight, writing short stories, inspired by the scenes and people who had seen the light of the lamp Alhazred. He spent all night writing, and all the next day sleeping, exhausted.
And the night before to get back to writing, was answering some letters. They spoke of his "dreams" such as knowing whether he had actually seen the pictures that had passed before his eyes, or if he had dreamed. Recognized that the worlds of their own fiction were intertwined with the worlds of the lamp. The wishes and desires of his youth had been cast in his mind with visions of his creative endeavors, which had absorbed the same way the places of the lamp and the hidden secrets of his heart, which, as the lamp of Alhazred, had reached the far ends of the universe.
passed many nights without Phillips return to light the lamp.
The nights were added, forming months, and months years. Aged, her fiction were published, and with them the mythologies of Cthulhu, Hastur the Unspeakable; of Yog-Sothoth, Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Offspring; of Hypnos, the god of sleep ; of Primeval Major and his messenger, Nyarlathotep, all these mythological beings, the dark world of shadows they represented, became an integral part of Phillips' privacy. His knowledge of them was such that he could bring to reality Arkham. Shadow Over Innsmouth discovered, spoke of whispers in the dark mold of Yuggoth, and gave the Dunwich Horror. And throughout his prose, in all his poems, the light shining lamp Alhazred, even if Phillips was no longer used.
Sixteen years passed in this way, until one night, Ward Phillips came to where he had left the lamp behind a row of books on one of the lower shelves of the library of his grandfather Whipple. Took it from there, and immediately all the old charm and all the things were revived for him. Again cleaned and placed on the table. In recent years, the Phillips' condition had deteriorated sharply. Was ill incurable and he knew his days were numbered, but do not want to die without going back to look one last time, the worlds of beauty and terror, which enclosed the lamp Alhazred.
lit the lamp again and looked at the walls. But something strange happened. In the same walls where they had been presented before the places and things related to the life of Alhazred, now came the appearance of a magical place known for Ward Phillips, but not the current time, but as it was in a bygone era loved and lost time when the boy frolic on the shores of the Seekonk, busy with the games that inspired their imagination in Greek mythology. There it was again the children: there were the coves where he had spent his early years, there was the roundabout was built in honor of the great Pan, all the irresponsibility and freedom of that happy childhood is reproduced on the walls, because the lamp was now reflected their own memories.
Longing, thought maybe it had always provided the lamp ancestral memories, for who could deny that his grandfather Whipple, when I was young, or those who preceded him in the line of Ward Phillips had seen all places illuminated by the lamp? And again it was as if he were looking through an open door. The scene was inviting him. He got up and walked painfully to the wall. No doubt more than a moment, then continued on to the books.
Sunlight suddenly erupted around them. He felt free of his chains and ran lightly along the edge of the Seekonk, where the scenes of his early years was expected to rejuvenate, to start life again in quiet times, when the world was young ... It was discovered the disappearance of Ward Phillips when an admirer of his stories, I was curious to meet him, came to town to visit him. It concluded that he had been wrong in the woods and died there, for his solitary walks were well known by the residents of Angell Street, and the gradual deterioration in his health.
organized several trips to explore nearby Nentaconhaunt and the banks, but found no trace of Ward Phillips. The police hope that someday find his remains, but found nothing and, eventually, the unsolved mystery archive purpose was lost in the years passed. The Angell Street House was demolished, the library acquired by some libraries, and what was in the house was sold as scrap, including old and ancient Arab lamp, which anyone in a technological world back to the time of Phillips, became interested and not found any use.
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